


the space between

by stereosymbiosis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereosymbiosis/pseuds/stereosymbiosis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison was pretty sure that Lydia could fill in the blanks.  She had always been good at filling in Allison’s empty spaces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the space between

**Author's Note:**

> Minor spoilers for 3x01.

“Tell me about France,” Lydia said as she carefully pressed blue painter’s tape to the doorframe. Lydia had taken it upon herself to measure out the exact quantity of paint they would need for Allison’s new room, as well as the task of placing the blue masking tape in exactly the correct position around the walls to prevent the paint from tainting the white doors and ceiling. Allison wasn’t really surprised that Lydia was applying her perfectionism to the project, but she felt a warm feeling in her chest anyway as she watched her best friend squint at the tape and rearrange it so it was perfectly straight along the door. After Lydia had taken over, all that was left for Allison to do was pick the paint color, and she was pretty sure that if she had been alone in decorating her new room she might not have even picked up a paint color sample in the first place.

“You’ve been to France before, you know what it’s like,” Allison said lightly. She twirled one of the paint rollers in her hand to avoid looking at Lydia, even though she could practically feel the other girl’s stare.

“Yes, but I want to know what you thought of it, silly,” Lydia retorted, pressing the last of the tape against the wall with finality. “There! All done. Let’s crack this bucket open and you can tell me all about it while we paint.”

Allison pulled the lid off of the first paint bucket and let a few wayward drops fall back into canister. The color she (and Lydia) had decided on was a lavender, almost the color of their matching bruises which had yet to fade. Lydia carefully picked up the bucket and poured some of the paint into the plastic pan that came with the paint rollers, then submerged the roller brush in the paint.

“I will splash you with paint if you don’t fess up,” she threatened, brandishing her roller brush like a weapon in front of her. Allison couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of her best friend with her hair swept up in a messy bun, wearing old, baggy clothes and holding her paint roller like it was a broadsword. Allison picked up her paint brush too, and as they painted the walls of her new bedroom, she told Lydia about living with her grandmother in Paris for four months, about exploring the city streets and eating the finest French food. She carefully avoided telling how her father had to beg her just to leave her bedroom some days, or how she would walk aimlessly around the city and end up God knows where, all alone, without the slightest indication of how much time had passed or how far from home she had even walked, or how she would cry bitterly into her pillow for her mother, or for Scott, or for herself. Even so, Allison was pretty sure that Lydia could fill in the blanks. She had always been good at filling in Allison’s empty spaces.

When all the stories had been told and all the paint had been painted expertly on the wall, Lydia placed her roller brush back in the pan, wiped the sweat from her brow, and sat down on the floor right in the middle of the room. Her hair was still in a perfectly messy bun, but a couple of flyaway strands had been coated in purple paint somewhere along the line.

“Let’s enjoy the fruits of our labor,” Lydia said, patting the floor next to her, and Allison carefully folded herself onto the floor, pressing her shoulder against Lydia’s. It was quiet for a moment or two, their breathing the only sounds echoing in the room. Lydia dropped her head onto Allison’s shoulder, and Allison twirled Lydia’s strawberry blonde hair between her fingers, pulling the still-wet paint off of each strand.

“I still miss him,” Lydia said quietly into Allison’s shoulder, and Allison’s heart seized up for a moment. Guilt flooded through her veins with every heartbeat that she sat quietly twirling Lydia’s hair in her fingers. What had she done for Lydia, besides say _I’m so sorry_ , besides keep her in the dark about things that she should never have been guarded from?

“I know, sweetheart,” Allison said, and it was all she could bring herself to say. There were so many other things she wanted to say, but didn’t know how to say to the girl who could express anything with the perfect combination of words. Instead she covered Lydia’s hand with her own, and Lydia twisted her own wrist around to lace her fingers between Allison’s, filling in the empty spaces between her fingers, one by one, like filling in the blanks in their conversations. Lydia squeezed her fingers tightly around Allison’s. Allison smiled into Lydia’s hair, and squeezed back.


End file.
